The Dog Days
by Irish Potatoes
Summary: His secret discovered before his destiny is complete, our unwaveringly loyal warlock must resort to unconventional tactics to stay where he belongs; at Arthur's side.
1. Chapter 1

About a week to the day had passed since the young warlock was ousted from within the palace staff itself, and was forced to flee or face death by the pyre.

Uther had been outraged at the thought of a sorcerer so close to his only son and heir, but perhaps overly so, considering who the culprit was. Arthur's manservant, Merlin, who'd not only been accused a concerning number of times over the course of his employment, but had actually _confessed_ to being so once himself, no less.

Still the king was livid, while the prince had resigned himself from the realm of reasoning and found himself distracted by a growing concern over the dark-haired boy's whereabouts since the day he had left with an apology in his eyes. There hadn't been time to explain.

Had he been the Arthur of previous years, he would have long since made up his mind that he cared not for the boy- the fool, his friend, the sorcerer. Putting all three names together no longer made his head spin, but Arthur had now found himself brooding over the fact that Merlin hadn't come clean with him to begin with.

…Well obviously not _to begin with_, heavens knew what sheer suicide that would've been, but the fact that Merlin had kept the secret to this point, after (he'd assumed) their friendship had been reluctantly accepted on both accounts- it disappointed him.

Merlin was no coward, despite how often Arthur fervently contradicted it, yet he'd been afraid to tell Arthur about the magic. His most incriminating secret, that it was, but perhaps also the most fundamental key to understanding Merlin in full. And what good was that now that he'd run off? He couldn't help but think that it was just like Merlin to put him in a situation of this sort.

'You idiot.." Arthur sighed, hefting his crossbow over his shoulder as he strode, heavy-footed through the underbrush. How he'd love to have the scrawny servant tramping reluctantly behind him. Then he could fill the quiet by explicating just how thoroughly _irritating_ the younger boy was. Arthur had managed to escape his duties for the time being to indulge in a solitary hunt in the woods, though he hadn't managed much an hour after embarking.

He hadn't brought a replacement servant along, or even any of his knights- hunting had become an activity strictly reserved for irritating said manservant in return; it felt oddly wrong without him there to gripe. The woods themselves seemed lonelier and more solemn without their indignant banter echoing through the trees. Wet snuffles and soft snorts disturbed the quiet woodland instead. Not on his part, obviously. Arthur had opted to bring a small team of his dogs out for the exercise. They paced about, sniffing, heads lowered with such intent one might think they could see through their nostrils.

Suddenly a crash resounded from beyond their clearing, and the dogs took off yowling, with the prince keeping up the best that he could before they finally sprinted beyond his line of sight.

Branches snapping loudly underfoot, he took a minute to catch his breath once chancing upon the last of his dogs. The hounds were sniffing about uncertainly now, pacing this way and that in confusion. Just as Arthur had come to the decision that their quarry had been lost, an attention-seeking "woof" caused him to look back towards the tree line behind him. At the edge of the wood, a lanky black dog -that had certainly not been brought along at the start of the trip- opened its mouth and panted in greeting. Arthur desperately forced his mind _not _to jump to conclusions upon noticing its frayed red scarf and beseeching blue eyes, uncommon in most breeds.

The dog wasn't one of his. But the overwhelming familiarity he felt at the sight of it told the prince it still was, in a strange sense, his own.

Vaguely aware of the absurdity of the situation, and choosing to ignore it, he took a very Arthurian step forward- cautious and confident all at once.

"...Merlin?" He tried after a beat, his skepticism practically tangible.

Tail swishing left and right, the scruffy fellow stood up, clearly all legs. Then, although it could have been his imagination, Arthur swore that he received an affirmative sneeze in reply.

This brought forth a grin the prince hadn't been able to muster up all week.

...

_Didn't really know how to break into this, but hey, now it's here and the good stuff can get going :D_

_Basically, I was thinking about Merlin recently, and realized most of the things I love about the guy, loyal, endearing, eager to please, impossibly friendly, and ALWAYS SMILING (even while getting pelted with rotten tomatoes), when you add them all up, you realize one single, incontestable truth._

_Merlin is a dog ^_^ So I made him one :D_

_reviews? 3_


	2. Chapter 2

**About to leave for Minnesota for a few days, hopefully this'll tide you wonderful reviewers over :) On with the show!**

**_REVISED as of Sept. 7, 2011. Wrote this much too fast to feel comfortable moving on as it was. The pacing was weird and way too random. Making this a bit more involved as a story, rather than the extended drabble it was before. Anyway, the new and improved chapter 2! _

**ooooooooooooooooo... o o o o o o o o o o o o o CHAPTER 2 o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o ... oooooooooooooooooo**

It was past nightfall by the time Arthur and Merlin returned. If anyone happened to notice the prince returning from the forest outskirts with an additional 'stray,' they must not have found it worth mentioning.

Even if the newest addition was noticeably tripping over its own paws in a fashion completely disassociated with the trained hunting pack.

"Honestly _Mer_lin," the prince was admonishing, quietly enough to be heard by no ears save for the (rather impressive) pair of the individual in question. "I hadn't thought it possible for you to get any clumsier."

A nip at the ankle cut short his bout of smirking and he jerked his foot back, indignant.

If a dog could in any way express some sense of self-satisfaction, the one at his side was _exuding_ it. Head lifted smugly, eyes trained forward in an utterly unconvincing attempt to appear innocent of any provocation- obviously _Arthur_ knew better. It was gestures like these that had the prince quickly convinced that the strange, but familiar fellow stringing him along truly was, impossibly, Merlin, and that he wasn't simply losing it.

He felt his eyes rolling instinctively as he returned the gesture through a hefty shove. His calf sent the unsuspecting warlock into a sprawl and he grinned at the startled yelp (which was still positively girlish). He surprised himself however as he paused, not to gloat, but to allow a more serious notion to surface. While Merlin went about righting himself, Arthur found himself somewhat struck by how easily they were falling back into their servant/master routine.

...Especially after all that had happened.

He was suddenly, violently brought back to the moment of their last and- what he'd assumed would be- final parting.

The scrambling canine joints were now clad in oak brown leggings as his vision morphed, reliving their last encounter. Weathered leather boots suppported a pair of equally unsteady legs. Human ones.

…_He was hearing more than seeing these particular feet maneuvering while at a manic sprint, sweeping a slight, panicked figure almost straight past him. Really, they could only belong to one person; a particular brand of idiot that trouble followed like a shadow. _His_ idiot, as it were. He strode out of his chambers in order to catch the startled servant, already wondering what kind of ridiculous situation the boy had landed himself in, and preparing to bail him out, as was probably needed. But as the slighter man very nearly blew past the solid barrier the prince presented, Arthur felt his reaction race from customary exasperation to full fledged alarm faster than he'd have thought possible. _

_He caught an arm out of concern rather than annoyance, but after finding that the stick thin appendage trembled in his hand, Arthur's next reaction was to reach out with the other and steady his friend. That was, servant. This gesture did little but perturb the prince further, who felt his stomach drop simply due to the fact that the younger's eyes were not meeting his own. Merlin wouldn't look him in the face. Ghostly white hands clenched in on themselves as if searching for strength. All Arthur could think as he helplessly appraised the single person to ever treat him as nothing but an equal- was that everything about him at that moment seemed resigned... and disturbingly vulnerable. Arthur felt a fervent desire to correct this wrong, to restore that once familiar spirit. The arm in his grip had now stilled, and the urgent breaths were reigned in, but it was not due to any found comfort. It felt much more like the calm that stood before the storm. Awaiting the inevitable. _

_Only, Arthur for the bloody life of him couldn't fathom what was coming._

_The thought had him feeling helpless, and, as it was whenever he was put in a helpless position, his concern channelled itself into a distinctly caustic disposition._

_"_MERLIN_._" _He had to find out what had put such a frantic look in his servant's eye, "what's-"_

_"_There isn't time." _The servant breathed, sounding nothing like himself. "I'm sorry, Arthur."_

_Both determined... and done._

_Fully prepared to order the truth from the tightlipped boy, that was when Merlin's pursuers- and the prince's answers- caught up with them. Materializing in a flurry of firey crimson and glinting iron, urging each other forward; closer and closer, louder and more pressing until their clanking iron footfalls and echoes of jostling weaponry rang in Arthur's ears. A chorus of metal crashing ugainst stone. Two unmovable forces, coming for Merlin. His servant was ripped from his hold in a determined, desperate make for escape as the guards- his father's- spotted their quarry; hunting a traitor and hot on his trail._

_He could not expain how he knew. But as Merlin- his servant, his confidant, his equal... his friend- glanced back to meet his eyes for one space of a heartbeat, he knew. Not whether that crushing final glance spoke of sorrow, or fear or farewell... Just that there would not be another chance to discover what it was._

_He somehow knew as his other half slipped away, out of view. Merlin would be gone... And there'd be no bringing him back this time around._

_This knowing was so absolute, he'd put his own sword down, giving up the pursuit his feet must have started._

He now felt this resurging urgency as they drifted down the castle's passages and cold stone corridors. They had become far more hostile and suspicious in the days that had followed. Uther's paranoia, if anything, had only solidified.

_Merlin had always been able to fill in the blanks, provide the explanations._

_Not this time._

_They'd been short, and scathing, spat instead from his father's lips as if scorching his very tongue._

A sorcerer.

His guilt could not be denied: he'd condemned himself with each fleeing step.

_Arthur didn't know if the servant had used magic to get away, and for all Uther knew, he'd been blind to Merlin's treachery. The King had taken it for granted that his son was on his side when the reality was, __it had been simply too late to say anything in Merlin's defense._

_He was already gone._

_And Arthur didn't know what to think._

Blinking back to the present, he contemplated what had possessed him to so readily accept a sorcerer back into Camelot, back into his confidence. He wondered if Merlin could still do magic (he still thought the word with a grimace) without the ability to speak. But that was just it, he supposed- the idea of Merlin doing magic still didn't seem to sink in, despite the clear evidence before him (now scratching its ear with a hind leg).

"Mer-" he stopped himself just as a pair of stablehands turned the corner, looking thankfully more intent on sharing their gossip than noticing the prince's newly acquired, scarf-wearing mutt. He nodded casually at the _M'lord_'s thrown his way, trusting Merlin to remain discrete. But as the help drifted past and then out of sight, he turned to find that Merlin had disappeared from where he'd been trotting alongside him. Frowning, and fighting the urge to whistle, he looked left and right for a sign of the servant, hearing nothing but a rustling near the stables. Restless horses were all he expected to find, but he started in their direction despite this. After planting the first foot in the soft, hay-strewn soil, he immediately spotted his friend, doing something completely... Merlin-like.

"Come _on_ then, _Mer_lin, keep up" he ordered, hearing the tangible exasperation in his voice as the raven-colored dog easily ignored him, taking its time to greet the horses it used to saddle. Standing before the timber barrier penning in two sturdy mares, he made a low noise in his throat, rousing them both. The two heads lifted, blinking in response. One was dark in shade, slighter, and a noticeably more weathered than the gleaming blonde warhorse that could only belong to the prince. Confused, but still curious, Merlin's mount stepped nearer to investigate, whinnying exuberantly upon seeing him. Arthur's tail merely flicked its recognition and nickered, tossing its golden mane. His servant's own tail swished vigorously and he gave the somewhat bewildered horses a happy bark. The newly pleased hound apparently then saw fit to lead the way out of the stables himself, stepping sprightly ahead of his master- which left _Arthur_ struggling to keep up.

Grating his teeth, he whistled as loud as he dared.

The addressed warlock paused with one foot in the air and swiveled its head around to acknowledge Arthur, head cocked as if in question.

Looking around in a slightly paranoid manner, Arthur continued after a cautious moment, realizing doubly how suspicious it was to be overheard addressing the exiled servant by name in the castle, on top of speaking in seriousness to a _dog_. Good lord. The whole of Camelot would assume he'd gone bonkers- or been bewitched _again _if he wasn't careful.

"_Merlin_," he hissed, "It's hardly appropriate to take you all the way into the castle with me while I leave the _rest_ of the hounds in the kennels."

At this, Merlin huffed and sat down, cocking his head expectantly to the side as if to say, "Do I _look_ like a hunting dog to you?"

It was the canine equivalent of pursing his lips and placing his hands on his hips.

Taking in the skinny frame, unruly tufts and ridiculous, ever-present scarf, Arthur had to concede. Merlin's dog form didn't look capable of catching anything but a cold.

"Fine." the prince heaved, wearily adding, "there's little sense in making a _literal_ one-sided argument anyway."

Merlin snuffed in agreement, perking up and carrying on again in an instant. He did not seem to notice Arthur trudging behind, nor the pointedly miffed air the prince had about him.

Once safely inside his chambers, Arthur shut his door with immense relief at not raising suspicions while Merlin made himself comfortable at the end of the prince's bed. This did not escape Arthur's attention.

"Nice try, Merlin. Go on," he directed, "you can sit and slobber on the rug over there. "

At this, Merlin sighed in a very dramatic and un-doglike fashion, making a show of slinking over to the indicated carpet and folding his long legs beneath him. Not three seconds later he then proceeded to lift his head and _whine_ like it was the greatest injustice he'd ever been served.

Arthur was suddnely in need of the table's solid support, gripping it heavily with both hands and tipping his chin towards the ceiling.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to try getting away with so much more now that you're an idiot _dog_ instead of just a plain idiot."

The resettled dog gave an innocent snort, as if to say _please, _completely unruffled..

And confirming Arthur's suspicions to be true.

Lord in heaven.

"What am I going to do with you, Merlin?"

Merlin wagged his tail unhelpfully- his same response to Arthur's disbelief back in the forest- and Arthur smiled despite himself.

He could not begin to describe what a relief it was to have Merlin back.

Now if he could just find a way to keep him out of trouble.

**oooooooooooooooooooo...o o o o o o o o o o End of Chapter o o o o o o o o o o o o ...oooooooooooooooooooooo**

_I was considering leaving this to be a one-shot, but a couple of you expressed interest in seeing this story continue, and yes. Even for me, Puppy!Merlin (or maybe Mutt!Merlin? He's too tall to be a puppy) is too cute of a muse to fend off._

_Thanks for the reviews folks! And for making me aware of __**Merlin the Magical Puppy!**_ _If that was your intention with the phrasing :D I had NO IDEA this existed and now I'm having a blast looking at possible connections hahaha... what is my life._

_Anyway, keep up with the ridiculousness that is my version of Merlin the Magical Puppy- soon to come: Merlin doesn't fetch, Gwaine joins in on the fun, Arthur tries desperately not to be caught participating in 'animal abuse' and Merlin makes your wishes come truuuueeee~_

_Maybe not that last part. I just like the theme song. (look it up on youtube, let it play while you read this :B)_

_Reviews are lovely love. 3_


	3. Chapter 3

_Baaack. Should be doing damage control with my physics homework, but I worked on this for the last... four hours instead?__ *FAIL*_

**_ALSO: BEFORE YOU READ ANY OF THIS CHECK OUT CHAPTER 2. It's been majorly revised due to sucky pacing and random hoo-ha. Hopefully there is much less of both of these now :)_**

_And last, I couldn't help but throw in a little tribute to Ultra-Geek's writing brilliance. Shouldn't be too difficult to spot. ^_^_

_Et c'est tout. Thanks for reading, now continue forth._

**o.o.o..o.o...o..o.o.o..o.o.o.o...o.. CHAPTER THREE ..o.o.o.o.o..o..o.o..o..o.o.o...o.o.o..o.o.o...o...o.o..o**

Alright. Yes, admittedly, his chambers were not entirely in proper order, and no, he hadn't found the right replacement for Merlin quite yet but it's not like it was _Arthur's _job to keep things clean.

And this was ridiculous. Ridiculous AND dangerous. But mostly the first.

He had said it teasingly the first time, but the reality sunk in as he reentered his room to find things definitively NOT as innocent as he'd left it. Either sick of the mess, or intensely bored, the leggy black hound now tidied and uncluttered his chamber before his very eyes. With bloody magic, of course.

He'd only been gone a quarter or an hour, attending to the court, and already the warlock's attention span was about to be the death of him.

Gods above, what WAS he going to do with Merlin?

Merlin, who was trying to be subtle with the supernatural assistance and failing outrageously, remained quite oblivious to Arthur's concerns. The prince merely watched in growing horror as a pitcher righted itself moments before making the complete fall from Merlin's nose; a startled yelp stopping it in mid air before it could empty its contents all over the floor. The annoyed dog growled, a sound which was muffled by a shirt that he carried in his mouth, destined for the wardrobe. He continued to growl, following the pitcher's progress with his eyes until it very carefully set itself back on the windowsill ledge, next to Arthur's breakfast. Arthur, behind him, stood with his back heavy against the door, hands gripping fistfulls of hair as he fervently fought the impending meltdown.

The warlock then turned and upon seeing Arthur, gave an innocent woof, shirt still wadded between his teeth, tail ends dragging. Arthur stared incredulously. Merlin wagged his tail. That was when Arthur proceeded to lose it.

Merlin, the magician- Merlin the magician doing magic in his room, with any number of magic-fearing castle occupants who could just as easily stroll in as innocently as he himself just did- the implications were making him nauseous. He wondered a bit hysterically whether or not his father would deem the idea of preparing a pyre for a dog too ridiculous to consider. Despite the fact his father had yet to find out Merlin was even there, Arthur decided on the spot he wouldn't be taking any chances with Uther.

"That's it-" he rushed, sounding more than a bit manic. He nearly gave himself whiplash searching frantically for a solution, before apparently finding it in the form of his furnishings. When he did find one, his next words were not what either of them were most likely expecting.

"Quick, Merlin, get in the cupboard."

Dog-Merlin dropped the shirt and took a careful step backward.

Evidently, Arthur's solution was to stow Merlin among his boots and breeches until the problem went away. The prince took a bracing stance, looking full and ready to bodily haul Merlin into the space if that was what it took.

"_Merlin. _You'd bloody well get in that cupboard or-"

"_Oh!"_ A stunned exclamation interrupted him mid-threat, resounding loudly over his shoulder and startling them both.

Arthur's eyes widened, knowing already it was too late, there'd be no chance to hide Merlin, he was already spotted- he whirled, having not the slightest idea of what to do next.

"What on earth is that?"

A torrent of silk and lace elbowed past him, heading straight for the warlock/dog standing frozen in the center of the room. Her green eyes expectant and voice imperious as ever, his gut reaction was split between relief and terror.

"Oh," he stumbled, forcing his body to adopt a position that read as more 'casual surprise,' than 'caught in the act of something treasonous.' Which was not far from how he felt.

"_Morgana_," he tried, doing his best not to squeak. "This isn't- have you _no_ practice with the art of knocking either then? Honestly." Recovering some of his usual disdain, he added "I was just getting used to the lack of disturbances around here."

"You mean since Merlin left?" She clarified bluntly, with uncharacteristic nonchalance.

His eyes flew back to the servant in question, who was stiffly allowing the woman's bone white fingers to scratch at the fur under his chin. He sat with his shoulders slightly hunched, eyes averted. It was an almost submissive position he'd seen with his hunting dogs before- and also an indication of fear. Reevaluating the scene in confusion, _that_ was when he caught on.

Arthur didn't let himself breathe as he realized Merlin still had that blasted kerchief on. And Morgana was reaching for it, oh _god, this was the end-_

"Although, I can't help but suspect you were more fond of him than you'd like to let on," she added with smug satisfaction, handling the scarf between two cunning fingers. His nerves heightened watching her do so.

"Honestly Arthur," she continued chiding, "this is a little pathetic. Replacing your old servant with a dog?" Arthur might have sensed a more biting hint to her words had he not been too busy being blown over with relief. She didn't believe it was really Merlin.

He didn't pause to consider just why he was so reluctant to let her know it was.

"What can I say? I wanted to be sure that this time I'll at least receive _some_ obedience in return for my trouble."

It was a weak retort, but he must have done alright sounding indignant instead of evasive, for his half-sister laughed once, if somewhat harshly.

"Merlin never really was manservant material."

Arthur would have agreed. Readily in fact, had it not been for the strange, almost cruel tone he was beginning to feel leaking through Morgana's seemingly innocent words.

"No, I suppose not," he stated after a beat, studying Uther's reclaimed ward a bit more closely.

She'd been harder to read since she'd returned- not that Morgana was ever an open book. However, he couldn't help but notice everything seemed more calculated about her, more withheld. She'd only been back a couple of weeks, though, and it had made him only sorrowful at first, having no trouble chocking it up to her extensive ordeal spent in enemy hands. He'd easily assumed she'd been experiencing some lingering trauma, and didn't want to open up about it. But lately, he would sometimes swear he was really sensing slight traces of… hostility. Condescension beneath those pristine features. Venom behind those forward lips.

He felt this strange sensation now as she stared at Merlin chillingly, who thankfully kept his head lowered as she continued combing her fingers through the midnight fur. Reluctant as he was to admit it, (particularly after the little magic display) Merlin had still made a wise choice in keeping those distinctive eyes out of her sight.

"A strange breed. Where did you get it?" The black hound gave only the smallest of shudders as he was relinquished from her touch.

Arthur hesitated, but knew well that sometimes a little truth made a more creditable lie.

"'Found' would be a better way of putting it," he admitted, sparing the servant-in-disguise a look of outward amusement, but was inwardly concerned. "While hunting in the woods. Couldn't shake him. Followed me and my pack all the way back to the city gates."

"A stray? Your father won't be very impressed." She supplied confidently, with a touch of amusement over the prospect. She then stepped lightly away from the stray in question, curiosity apparently sated, taking her leave.

"At least it isn't feral," he replied, less nervous to let her go now. "But perhaps it would be best not to mention it to him."

Morgana smiled at his way of asking, but not as warmly as he remembered.

"Alright, Arthur. But you owe me," she cautioned, then left.

Arthur exhaled deeply as her footsteps drifted away.

As the door pulled shut behind her he turned to glare at what was now his apparently adopted dog. But Merlin had raised his head slightly at the door's closing clank, and still sat, crouched low, ears flat.

He was still staring after the departed woman, eyes stormy like Arthur had never seen.

A low sound started in his throat, a distrustful, and frankly, Arthur decided, unnerving one.

"Merlin." He began, not sure he wanted to know "…what is it?"

His now ironically feral looking friend simply lowered its hackles, but was otherwise unhearing. He seemed to be making a conscious decision before straightening stiffly, turning to Arthur with a leveling look.

Arthur's brow furrowed, not understanding the grim turmoil dancing around those confounding blue eyes. Right before him they stood, yet faraway with knowledge he was beginning to think he'd never come to fully know.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't try to.

Merlin glanced up as Arthur kneeled down low in front of him, bending his neck until they were eye level, searching the warlock's face.

"Merlin…" he ordered, "you _can_ trust me with this."

Black lids blinked and those blue eyes softened, squinting a bit like they used to.

Arthur smiled reassuringly back. But his smile fell lax as Merlin slowly, mournfully, shook his head no.

While the King's son wrestled with his frustration, struggling with his lack of understanding, Uther's ward set forth with a secret tilt to her striking scarlet lips; savoring the answers held in her possession only.

**o.o..oo..o..o.o.o.o.o...o...o.o..oo.o...o.o..o..o.o.o.o.o.o..o..o.o..o.o.o**

_Oh, snap, don't you just love it when Morgana knows everything first? Me neither. Sorry folks._

_Once again, thank you all you vundabar reviewers. You keep me afloat. :)_

_Here's some random potentially clarifying information that might be beneficial to provide:_

_This takes place when Morgana has officially gone dark side, but has yet to officially declare it with a full-blown siege of Camelot. She's still sitting around smirking and acting superior. But I'm going to try and make her less of an annoying villain and bring some of the old Morgana back because I cannot stand how flat she became in season 3._

_Also,** if you have trouble picturing Merlin**, I researched some dog types and decided (for me, anyway) he would resemble something close to a Schipperke. They're kind of wolfy and black- Merlin the Magical Mutt would just have slightly larger ears and be a bit lankier, clumsier, and probably a little unkempt, too. :P_

_also I revise like a mad person. So, when these update, rereads will never hurt ^_^'_

_Remember: Merlin gets a biscuit every time you review. _


	4. Chapter 4

_So who's freaking out about Season 4 being right around the corner? I, for one, am having intense difficulty focusing on the real world as of late. This is even more unfortunate, seeing how being on THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ATLANTIC I won't get to see it air until 2012 when Syfy accomodates us. *sigh*_

_Oh well. Gives me time to rewatch the series in the meantime._

_On with the show~ _

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o..o.o..o.o.o.o... Chapter 4 ...o.o.o.o..o.o.o.o.o.o..o.o.o.o.o..o.o.o..o.o..o..o**

Uther's ward glided down the hall so airily not a soul would suspect she had a clear destination and agenda in mind. Nodding cordially at passing attendants, who gave up pleasant dips of the head or curtsies in return, she appeared as ever, the poised and guileless keep of the castle. She really was a divine actress. Arriving at her chambers, she entered casually, and found Gwen hovering about, making minor adjustments to her already immaculate quarters. Politely but firmly dismissing the dark maid, Morgana watched as she scurried out without a fuss. She'd been rather broken up about Merlin, but this was hardly a shock, considering it was Gwen. Morgana had not been the least bit surprised the first time she'd spotted her dabbing at teary eyes with a corner of her apron. She smirked mockingly. Her poor, simple handmaiden. Gwen wouldn't understand why she did what she had to, which was precisely why she hadn't wasted a word of comfort on the curly haired maid.

She sat before her vanity and attended her own glossy tresses, flowing over one shoulder like the black waters of the evening sea; catching the light the way waves caught the moon. Her alabaster complexion may not have ever met the sun's rays. She was a creature of the night; in more than exterior alone.

It was late in the night when she let the mask of pretenses fall. The false, pleasant smile fled from her pale face, now possessing a chillingly cold composure. She could fool just about everyone in the palace. Always could. But she'd become steady and sure with her manipulation since she'd chosen her side, after accepting that her role would be to bring an end to her guardian's slaughtering; no longer to sit idly by, at a loss for how to appeal to his madness.

She knew her part now. She'd stepped into it willingly, finally confident that it was the lesser of two evils. She chose her own kind over Uther, the murderer. That choice would have been made in half the time had he been anyone other than her guardian. She would be the one to bring him down- to his knees if it came to it.

Her cold smile remained in place as the raven strands turned to silk beneath the bristles of her brush.

It grew easier to accept each day. She'd already framed Merlin, after all.

She knew how deeply he'd wormed his way into palace affairs even before seeing it upon her return. There was no getting anything done with him shadowing Arthur like he did. The servant she'd once considered a friend didn't pose much of a threat physically, especially in the face of her newfound powers. But he was resourceful, and his loyalty, as she'd seen first hand, was not to be underestimated.

He was a pest, and a potentially dangerous one, but eliminating him had been almost too easy. She'd simply had to reveal to Uther that she'd spied the boy doing magic.. After a chandelier bearing a frightening amount of crystal and glass had come loose from its supports overhead. Her doing, of course. Managing to sound suitably shaken, she'd leaned over to whisper in her guardian's ear that the eyes of Arthur's manservant had flashed gold- hadn't he seen?

It was all the King needed, and immediately after, all hell broke satisfyingly loose. Uther had pinned the guards on Merlin like lions on their prey. There'd been no warning, nor trial for him, simply the choice to run or die. This was all to her liking. But to be completely secure, she'd taken one extra measure, a suggestion from Morgause;

Before the guards could find him, she'd cast a spell of her own. _Silentium. _Her sister taught it to her, a simple hex, but specific to her needs. Merlin had weaseled his way out of multiple arrests in the past, and Morgana knew better than to leave him to his own devices. With that spell, she'd ensured that no words of her betrayal would come forth from the traitor's lips. He'd lost the ability to condemn her in any manner: his lying tongue she had leashed, his words were hers to confine.

She would have his silence, but she wouldn't get her hands dirty over a servant. She would allow Uther to handle the rest.

And he had. No, Merlin had not been dragged back to be tried- yet- but he was out of Camelot for good. And that was all that Morgana needed.

..Meanwhile..

Woof.

"That's what you're telling me?"

Woof.

"_You really_- I realize that your idiocy comes in greater abundance than the rest of Camelot's, but _Good Lord_, Merlin. You can't have honestly chosen to turn into a dog with no way of changing back."

Woof?

"You're lying. I don't believe it."

Shrug.

"Not even _you're_ that dense."

The dog rolled its eyes, but gave a conceding noise.

"Now answer me," the prince demanded for the hundredth time, adding, "that's an order," somewhat redundantly.

"Why did you turn into a complete _kitten _when Morgana came in here?"

Merlin growled indignantly at this, looking past Arthur, distinctly annoyed.

"Don't get _defensive. _It' the truth; you practically had a conniption when she touched you. What aren't I aware of here?"

Merlin gave him a look he was very used to by this point, and ignored the fact that he may have been fighting a losing battle.

The prince was undeterred by the fact that he was interrogating a dog. He _would_ be the victor in this battle of wills, because damn it, that's what Arthur did. He did not accept defeat, and told Merlin as much.

_Have it your way, _the warlock seemed to say as he rested his chin upon folded paws, looking around for something more interesting to watch than a prince past his line of patience.

His wolfish head jerked violently back up however, as a substantial metal object hit the stone loudly, clanking just next to his ear. The drinking goblet bounced and rolled beneath the wardrobe. Arthur wouldn't be ignored.

Merlin turned back to him, chiding. _Are you through?_

The frustrated prince looked very much like he was starting to consider beating the answer out of Merlin, but stubbornly crossed his arms instead. "We won't do this all night," he declared, lowering his chin. "And to be fair, Merlin, I think you've been keeping more than your fair of secrets up to this point, haven't you?"

Dipping his nose and flattening his ears, the black dog looked suitably chastised at this. He looked away from Arthur, convincingly resembling a shamefaced puppy.

Arthur took pity for the moment, but what he couldn't possibly have understood was that Merlin wasn't being deliberately belligerent. Well, not completely anyway.

While he was fairly certain he could change back into his human form if he chose (he hadn't tried it yet, seeing as it required a heavy amount of magic), the truth was there would be very little point, considering what Arthur was asking. He hadn't figured out exactly why, but he'd felt some sort of magical tie since leaving, linked to a separate source than his own. The sensation hovered and tingled now and again, never fully fading, but growing _particularly _strong when he reflected upon what happened that final day in court. When something had caused the chandelier to come crashing down, sending glass shards flying towards the lords and ladies of the hall. He had been rather abruptly and inexplicably blamed. But the fact that Morgana had been present left him instantly suspicious that it was of her making. He tensed as the pain returned, indisputably strong with this last thought, sending painful jolts through his system. He closed his eyes to fight it, realizing his mistake through the stinging haze, focusing instead on the present as intensely as he could. The pain abruptly diminished.

Merlin opened his eyes, which landed on a now silent Arthur, regarding him from no more than a foot away; he'd moved closer in concern.

He watched as Merlin subtly shook himself, disturbed by what he'd just seen. One moment, he'd been dealing with Merlin's usual obstinacy, and the next, he'd looked to see his friend hunched, tensed, and shaking in pain, oblivious to his words.

Arthur had snapped his name once in alarm, but didn't repeat it, for the second after he'd uttered it he knew Merlin wasn't hearing him. He'd moved closer in two quick steps, dropping to search for the source of the warlock's torment, but unable to find it. The shudders went on for a few breaths, before Merlin snapped out of it, opening his eyes and rising stiffly. Arthur intuitively sensed this had a connection with his questions, which meant… it had some connection to Morgana?

But how?

"Prince Arthur" an official voice called though the door, which he wisely left shut.

Brilliant timing for a house call.

"What is it?"

"You are needed in the Great Hall. The King requests your presence."

Breathing hotly out his nose, his gaze remained focused on Merlin as he replied.

"Alright. Go on and inform my father that I'll be there shortly."

"My lord." The replies hovered around the door's opposite face, muted by the solid wood. Their iron footsteps made quite enough clamor, however, to communicate the guards' retreat.

Merlin had rigidly gotten to his feet in curiosity, eyebrows raised, tail still.

"_Stay_," Arthur articulated pointing at the floor, "_here_. Promise me, Merlin."

Merlin woofed softly, not quite agreeing, but sat obediently back on the rug. Arthur smirked slightly.

"Good boy."

**o.o.o.o.o..o..o.o..o.o.o... END CH. 4 ...o.o.o...o.o.o.o...o.o..o.o.o**

_Plot, plot, plot, plot. _

_How it thickens..._

_And look. We've been granted a surprise visit from the magical Angst Fairy, how wonderful. (What's so fabulous about angst that I can't write a story without it? Raaargh, thiswassupposedtobehumor...)_

_Side interest note of this chapter: C__ame across a piece of art (made before this was written) of not only Merlin the Magical Puppy... But also Arthur the Prat Puppy! it's by donella on deviantart. They're rather accurate. And adorable._

_Okay. The rest you all know, read 'n review, and you make my life ^_^_


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